


Cruel War's Hand

by fearless_seas



Category: Glory (1989)
Genre: American History, Civil War, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearless_seas/pseuds/fearless_seas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Gould Shaw has feelings he doesn't understand, feelings he can't suppress. Cabot Forbes just wants to protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One | Bonds.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the 1989 movie, Glory. Starring Matthew Broderick as Colonel Robert Gould Shaw and Cary Elwes as Cabot Forbes. This is my own take on my favorite little friendship. Most of the scenes I write will be taken from scenes of the movie. My own take on them.

          How lasting have they both held? _Fifteen years?_ Does a fifteen year friendship even subsist? A friendship not broken, not bent, nor torn or strangled. Not a name dragged through the mud, just a promise and a bond that lasting in an eternity. 

          _Civil War_. It was difficult to postulate that the country was once again at War. The tearing eyes, blood shed and lost, shrouded in the mist that the Union would one day unite the ample United States of America. 

          The war was waging endlessly forward, you'd expect childhood friends would soon dissipate as the war commenced. Bombshells, canon booms, exploding guns. One would look war deep into it's snarling teeth, it's face shaped by a skeleton's leer and the petrifying fear driving them towards insanity.

          War was the broken shard of a mirror, tearing Fathers from Sons, friends pinned against friends in the ultimate game of death.

           Too much stress rooted from the stems of war, their minds bloomed like flowers, to their only thoughts were of the bleeding eyes of the battle.

          For Cabot and Robert had built such a bond, the death that may shroud them, taking one another from their arms, would never be a force strong enough to smash the fabrics of the relationship of these two friends.

          Friends was a word that put it quite simply, lazy for in fact. Their friendship had no words for the bond. No words to describe the closeness of two Bostonian's.

          Their lives created on the single stronghold, they knew the one stable thing in their young lives was this relationship.


	2. Chapter 2 | Beautiful Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Robert drops out of Harvard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the fact that Robert Gould Shaw actually did drop out of Harvard.

_**June** **2nd,** **1859** _

          " _Robert_ " Cabot Forbes gasped slightly, his stare widening. "You can't be serious?" Cabot furrowed his eyebrows and balled one of his hands into a visible fist, clearly alarmed at the sudden news Robert had spontaneously produced to him.

          Robert Gould Shaw pursed his paper thin lips, he was feeling only slightly apprehensive, this was the response he had expected, but possibly with a little more understanding stirred into Cabot's mindset.

          Robert didn't disclose anything in return to Cabot's actions, but simply reached out a hand, positioning it elegantly on the gated balcony in front of them. His serious brown eyes wouldn't allow him to wander towards Cabot's mischievous visage, but out of his own self mortification only granted him to stare speechless into the distance at the oncoming night, spreading beautifully over the horizon.

          Robert's fear set into place about how Cabot was reflecting of him, and he didn't say anything, but merely nodded, still not peering him in the face.

          "But, Robert..." Cabot began again, his sudden change in song made Robert's head slightly edge it's way in his general direction. "Harvard?" his tempo seemed stressed, confused. "Men dream of attending Harvard, and you're..." his voice dropped abruptly and he turned down.

          Robert looked curiously to his lateral, Cabot, who was just barely in the corner of his view; was unsure of what to say next, unsure of if any of his words would formulate for what truths he had just spoke.

          Cabot's eyes were in the present and he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose with two of his fingers, slowly massaging to relax his growing temper. He stood upright, his body becoming more of a serious form. "And you're dropping out" he declared sharply, concluding his lingering sentence.

          Robert cringed at his altercation, his eyelashes fluttering, he swallowed, his mouth was drained and no words could come to his hollow brain; no matter how hard he tried. No words of acrimony attempted to trip past his tongue.

          He withdrew his arm off the gate baggily, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He kept his head down in shame.

          It was 1859, and the twenty-one year old had had enough and was dropping out of Harvard University. To him it was a savior, the stress of being who he didn't want to be felt like a relief. To others, shameful, to be lucky enough to be attending such a prestigious University and to be dropping out was un-called for and spoiled.

          Cabot's sour tone always tore open, relieving his true feelings and decided to be the better friend. Cabot tried, he really did try to be hard, cold, to toughen up Robert's weak spots. But it was as if he was almost incapable of feeling anger towards his shorter friend.

          On any occasion Cabot tried to propose into a stronger more definent personal; to his dismay, his false figure always faltered and he would decline into his formal, warm-hearted friend. There to comfort Robert's sorrows. He was conjected to be the tenacious one.

          Nobody spilled a discussion, the Spring air whiffed through the empty courtyard wistfully. Cold, uninviting. Robert's nose felt numb and the tips of his fingers were desensitized. It was even reticent in the atmosphere enveloping them both, no carriages noted on the cobblestone streets, no boots treading on the paved walkways.

          Cabot felt something inside himself falter, hide away, and he once again felt his false mask falter, revealing his true self. "Oh, Robert..." his tone was soft, delicate,   precise as if he was tiptoeing around a sleeping being.

          Cabot gingerly rested his hand delicately on the petite man shoulder. "I'm sorry" his voice became barely above a heard whisper, loosing itself into the wind

          Robert looked down, too rattled almost to glare into the soft man's eyes. Every time Robert did, there was something there, something he had never felt before, something he didn't feel with anyone else he come across his whole life. A force he couldn't explain, light enough to change his mood. Like he was home.

          Robert's embarrassment at what he revealed, frightened him. What would Cabot think of him now? Cabot would gaze upon him with a new set of view now and see nothing more than a spoiled little rich boy.

          Cabot squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, peeping at the side of his un-visible face, unable to see his facial expression, Robert's head was turned in the antithetical direction. Cabot wanted to see his mood, see what his reaction had provoked, he didn't mean to damage him.

          "I'm your friend" Cabot reminded him, slugging his shoulder playfully, his vocals were now pleasant, charming and enticing, comforting. "I just-" he stopped again in the middle of his sentence. Robert looked off to the side, biting his lip. "I don't want you to fuck up your life" Cabot fiercely began once again.

          A surge of anger powered through his soul, and Robert growled, pushing himself from the balcony gate and stepping backwards away from Cabot's hurt self. The taller blonde's arm still dwelled in the air, expecting Robert to come back. Robert put his arms down at his sides. "I'm not fucking up my life!" he battled, gripping his hair.

          Cabot's mood transformed at the end of this surprising sentence and he strided closer to Robert, and cocked his head sarcastically to one side "Oh really?" Cabot snarled, taking a step forward, towering over Robert, staring down on him. Robert's eyes flinched with regret.

          "You're not fucking up your life?" Cabot glimpsed in the opposite direction for a split second, their eyes still not meeting each other. "Last time I checked, you're dropping out of Harvard!" Cabot cried, waving his hands. "Harvard University!"

          Robert recoiled, and conceded his eyes to meet Cabot's. Cabot put his arms down, and repired deeply. "I'm suppose to protect you" his pitch now softer, more controlled.

          Their eyes still met, Cabot raised a blonde eyebrow slightly, his piercing blue eyes being prudently deliberated by pair of chocolate browns. The struggle before to make eye contact was now the problem of them not able to look away. It was as if they were both trying to see into each others souls.

          "I don't need protecting" bitterly threw back, arching his dark eyebrows, putting character into his expressions.

          Cabot sorely situated his hand on his hip. "Then what do you need, Robert?" he inquired, narrowing his cheeks.

          Robert unsealed his lips, shutting it again. Once again, not sure of what to say. Their eyes remained together. He grinded his teeth, raising a fist "You!" he screamed, punching Cabot in the chest.

          Robert stopped, and held his own fist against his chest in a remorseful way and sucked in his cheeks "I need you...". He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, and lost against the Spring wind. His heart beat accelerated in his hammering chest.

          Cabot's face came to a recess. His fist slid off his hip, down to his sides. He more serene now. It was now restrained, no words came out of his teeth.

          No words, just eyes. When you've known someone for so long, you don't need words. Only each other.

          Merely inches away from each other, Cabot reached out his arms, bending down and hugging Robert without his permission, just simple knowing in his heart that he longed for it. Robert buried his face in Cabot's neck, closing his mouth. It was the still moments such as this, that always proved how essential they were to each other.

          "I'm sorry" Robert muttered, his face buried in the crook of Cabot's warm neck.

          Cabot chuckled softly "It's alright" he beamed, he felt warm, radiant and giddy. "If you want to drop out of Harvard..." Cabot clicked his tongue "I'll be there if you need support" he winked playfully "I know how much you need me" he smirked.

          Robert tried to shroud his face, which had turned a dazzling magenta shade, blushing.

          As Cabot continued to humor him, Robert's face maintained to stay red. Robert's mind replaying the event that had just befallen them. _What did I mean when I said I needed him?_ he reflected, bewildered, and felt as if his throat closing in.

          Robert felt demented, all he knew, was that when Robert said he needed Cabot, it was not the same idea Cabot had taken from the words he spoke. Robert secretly mean't something bigger. But he didn't know precisely what he wanted.


	3. Chapter Three | Mortals Confessions

_**May 11th, 1861.** _

Robert reclined his right shoulder against the painted door frame of his home, crossing one of his arms across his stomach. He raised his cup to his chapped lips, taking a sip of the sour red wine that was poured into his clear glass. 

          The late afternoon sun drafted through the windows, creating patches of sun on the carpet. It was a truly warm day out today, the sun floating prominently in the heavens above and the blossoms dawning to burst beautifully. A symbol that Spring was drawing closer. 

           Robert lifted two fingers to his neck, attempting to ease up his white collared shirt. For it was so sweltering in the expanse he was confined in. The black bow tie strapped to his neck suffocated the brunette, making it unendurable to breath as he stood there looking well dressed and proper. 

          The blather in the extensive house was cacophonous, the gathering packing up essentially each room in the downstairs sector of the Shaw's household. The aroma of numerous lit cigars was putrid, smothering up the air space in which they were all accumulated in. The multifarious conversations infiltrating his hearing, spouting over the very brainwork in his percipience.

          Robert commutated the leg that he was standing upon (since it was falling asleep) and straightened his stiff posture. He was disinterested, in anything going on at the moment, unaware of where to fixate his vision. Robert should have been conversing with the multifold of people in the household at the occasion, but he felt no need to because he had spoken the same conversations so many times before. 

          His deep, dark eyes wandering, lost, not knowing quite where to speculate amidst the bustling throng. His eyes peered tentatively into the room just beyond the entry room. He saw no person of particular significance. It wasn't until a pair of conversing people transferred out of the way did his eyes catch upon just the person he wanted to spot. The familiar visage of _Cabot Forbes_. 

          Cabot stood in the back of the opposite room. In the distance, Robert watched him snicker cheaply, eyeing the person he was talking to. Robert could state that it was fake sound, for the person he was exchanging with's titillation. Cabot took a quaff from his own glass of wine, widening his eyes as the sour taste dotted his tongue. Robert's eyes succeeding his hand, that lead up to tip into his pink lips. 

          Cabot leaned over, sticking out a hand on the table fornent to him. He acquired a very amused expression, one that curled around his facial features. With that expression, Robert could tell the type of person Cabot was speaking with.

          Robert squinted his eyes into the distance across from him, throwing his gaze apart from Cabot, moving slightly to Cabot' left, and studied the two women in before the blonde. Cabot's lips ajar to articulate his phrases. It must have been particularly humorous what he spoke, because the paired girls frontal of him, both giggled, covering their mouths, their faces become heated and they both peaked at one another. 

          Robert pursed his lips in a tiny set of fury, a blaze of jealousy shrouding his mind and form. _That should be himself_. _Why didn't Cabot tell Robert he was here?_ Cabot was quite popular with the women, and it was no surprise to him, although it did make him jealous. Not of the fact that he had more women than Robert did, not even the thought that Cabot had many more admirers than Robert did. It was the fact that Cabot never chose any of the women, maybe Robert's confusing feelings would disappear if he saw that Cabot was permanently gleeful with someone else.  

          Cabot was quite tall, approximately six foot to be definite. His hair was always neatly parted and combed, something he took great pride in doing. He owned a stunning grin, or more of a smirk to put into proper terms. It was a teasing simper, one that contrived Robert, and virtually all the generality who was glanced upon with it, commence out into an apt of blushing.

            He was extraordinarily handsome. His face, neatly symmetrical. Cabot looked mischievous, with age appropriate features. Along with his blonde hair, came the utmost mesmerizing eyes, Robert had ever seen. They were like the stormy ocean, to anyone, simplistic blue orbs. To Robert, he could see that there was a commodity cloaking itself inside Cabot's soul. 

          Robert was not preceding that women were not _interested_ in him. For there was truly a few. He was not bad looking, varies of people, might even go as truthful to say he was _dashingly handsome_. If only Robert were taller, for he was solicitous to anyone who was taller than five foot seven. He was only five foot five, to his dismay. The prodigious of his insecurities. 

          Robert locked his jaw, gritting his teeth tightly; arduous to mask the envy that was bottled up internally. He dissipated his body weight off of the door frame and found his legs ruling him to the next room, to where Cabot was stationed.

          Robert laced his body through the crowd of people, maundering out an "Excuse me _"_ , every couple of seconds. The giggling of the women before Cabot, grew impendingly louder as Robert attempted to block everything else out, just to try and strain to audit the conversation they were all procuring. 

          Cabot's eyes converted directions, circulating to view Robert, who was subsequently pursuing nearer. He removed his glass of wine down from his lips, and grinned, obviously pleased to be greeting his best friend. His gaze was observant of Robert from the moment he entered the room, till where he was standing now. Robert was in an unease tempo. 

          Cabot kicked himself off the table and stood upright, tilting his head down to look at the shorter male. Cabot advanced away from the two women who were verbalizing with him moments ago. "Robert!" he cried out in joy, "Care for some wine?" he let out his lovely smirk, gesturing to the bottle of open red wine, standing upright on the table, among with other bottles of alcohol. "Straight from the countryside" he winked, raising a cheek, about to take another sip from his glass. 

          Robert felt his cheeks grow warm, of course from the marvelous smirk Cabot had flashed at him. Robert didn't even take a glance at the shadowy bottle, for he didn't care much for the tongue of alcohol as copious as Cabot does. 

          Cabot's gleeful expression soon faltered, oscillating to a more serious tone and he put his arms to settle down at his sides in somnolence, approaching his head nearer to Robert, almost as if he was about to disclose a secret. "Are you quite alright, Robert?" he inquired, in a hushed voice, noticing something the matter with Robert's manner. A look of concern glinting over his faulty eyes. 

          Robert didn't give him an answer "Cabot, I must speak with you". His tone was serious, grave. Cabot immediately set his glass down on the table next to him, not taking his eyes off of Robert. He was watching him carefully, worriedly. There was a look of melancholy heartache in Robert's dark brown doe eyes.

          "Robert, are you okay?" Cabot grilled once again, placing a hand gently on his shoulder for reassurance, surrogating almost as if he was made of glass. Responding with delicate behavior. 

          Robert jolted his head, looking down at the ground, then back up into Cabot's eyes, a sense of tentativeness. Without a word, not rationalizing about anyone else but Cabot, Robert reached over, wrapping his fingers around Cabot's wrist, pulling him out of the room by his arm.

          Cabot waved to the two women, "Excuse me" Cabot muttered to the two ladies, who looked displeased that he was leaving, and especially annoyed that Robert was taking him from them. 

           Robert continued to grasp firmly onto Cabot's wrist, just aloft where his hand began, leading him outside of the house. Abroad from the banquet, absent from the clamor. Somewhere discreet, with nobody else. Just _them_. 

           Robert shoved Cabot outside onto the red brick steps of the lavish home. Robert swerved away from Cabot and swaddled his hand around the door handle and closed the front door behind them. Cabot put his hands on his hips, arching a confused eyebrow, waiting impatiently for Robert to turn around.

           "Damn, it's hot out here" Cabot chuckled, beginning to unbutton his thick top, always the one to attempt to lighten the mood. "Robert, what is this about?" he needled, once Robert was facing Cabot again, Cabot was quite flummoxed at Robert's percipient actions. 

          Robert stood a little taller on his toes, peering over Cabot's shoulder;s, causing Cabot to look in that direction as well and then his gaze shifted to the front door, making sure nobody was coming out.

          Cabot rolled his blue orbs "Robert could you-".

          Robert interrupted him and put a pointed forefinger on Cabot's red lips, shushing him. Cabot crossed his eyes, trying to look at his finger. He soon closed his lips, putting them back together, no words escaping out of his now closed mouth. 

           Cabot furrowed his eyebrows, and Robert deepened his gaze, straight into Cabot's eyes, trying to create a form a eye contact. His face was dead grave, and sodden. "Meet me by the creek at eleven" Robert finally formed into words, his voice was small, reticent. 

          Cabot opened his mouth "Why-"

          Robert shook his head, clearing him of any words once again "Just do it!" he screamed, Cabot looked a little hurt and stepped back, pulling his hands, sliding it off of his shoulder. Robert _never_ yelled at Cabot. Robert's expression glinted with a large bout of remorse. "Just do it" he whispered, moving his head slightly "Please Cabot" he begged, stepping closer to him, trying to close the space between them. "For me" he raised his eyebrows, sincere, disconsolated. "For _us_ ".

          "O-okay, I'll meet you" Cabot gulped. "For you, I promise" he put a hand on his chest, above where his heart was located. He placed another hand on Robert's shoulder "What's going on, Rob?" he asked once again. 

          Robert shook his head haltingly, "You'll see" he curtsied his head back at the door, gesturing at the bustling full room inside the building "Enjoy the party" he acknowledged, " _Cabot_ ".

         Robert didn't look back at Cabot, leaving him, alone on the walkway in front of the house. Cabot left, only to follow Robert, until he turned a corner and disappeared. Unaware of what was going to happen tonight.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what Robert has to say? Stay tuned for a new chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for such a for first chapter. But I need to make an entrance somehow.


End file.
